That will make you sleep."

Marietta seemed to feel the pain herself. She smoothed the leathern
cushion under his head as well as she could, and softly touched his
forehead. It was hot and dry now.

"He is feverish," she said to Nella anxiously.

"I will bring him barley water with the syrup of poppies. What do you
expect? Do you think that such a wound and such a burn are cooling to
the blood, and refreshing to the brain? The man is badly hurt. Of course
he is feverish. He ought to be in his bed, like a decent Christian."

"Some one must help me with the work," said Zorzi faintly.

"There is no one but me," answered Marietta after a moment's pause.

"You?" cried Nella, greatly scandalised.

Even Pasquale stared at Marietta in silent astonishment.

"Yes," she said quietly. "There is no one else who knows enough about my
father's work."

"That is true," said Zorzi. "But you cannot come here and work with me."

Marietta turned away and walked to the window. In her thin dress she
stood there a few minutes, like a slender lily, all white and gold in
the summer light.

"It is out of the question!" protested Nella. "Her brother will never
allow her to come. He will lock her up in her own room for safety, till
the master comes home."

"I think I shall always do just what I think right," said Marietta
quietly, as if to herself.

"Lord!" cried Nella. "The young lady is going mad!"

Nella was gathering together the remains of the things she had brought.
Exhausted by the pain he had suffered, and by the efforts he had made to
hide it, Zorzi lay on his back, looking with half-closed eyes at the
graceful outline of the girl's figure, and vaguely wishing that she
would never move, and that he might be allowed to die while quietly
gazing at her.

"Lady," said Pasquale at last, and rather timidly, "I will take good
care of him. I will get him crutches to-morrow. I will come in the
daytime and keep the fire burning for him."

"It would be far better to let it go out," observed Nella, with much
sense.

"But the experiments!" cried Zorzi, suddenly coming back from his dream.
"I have promised the master to carry them out."

"You see what comes of your glass-working," retorted Nella, pointing to
his bandaged foot.

"How did it happen?" asked Marietta suddenly. "How did you do it?"

"It was done for him," said Pasquale, "and may the Last Judgment come a
hundred times over for him who did it!"

His intention was cle